


The Old Familiar Lies

by Tomboy13



Series: Butch Lena au [4]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Butch Lena Luthor, Butchphobia, F/F, Insecure Kara Danvers, Jealous Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor bristling with righteous indignation, Misogyny, Rampant Stereotyping, Slightly smutty in chapter 3, but hardly at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-21 14:43:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14287182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomboy13/pseuds/Tomboy13
Summary: Kara is confused when she gets told some of the old familiar lies about butch women.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Stereotyping, misogyny and butch-phobia all over the place, including all the language and outright painful attempts at character assassination that entails so be warned, and get that righteous indignation ready.

Alex has always been sure to tread a little more carefully around her adopted sister than she did around other people.  
She knows, and has always known, that Kara can have quite a literal mind when faced with something new. It is, she reasons, partly due to her alien heritage; Kara lives her life having to analyse the human interactions around her like a non-native speaker scared of missing the joke because they don’t understand the pun.  
It had been the cause of much hilarity over the years, but, on occasion, the little misunderstandings had snowballed into an avalanche. Once or twice, even simple jokes had caused utter chaos.

And it had started out as a joke.

They’d dragged Kara and Lena out with their friends, mainly to get them out of the insufferable love bubble that they’d been in for the past week, but also, if they were honest, to show off that Alex’s dorky little sister had snagged Lena frigging Luthor.  
They’d gone to some hole in the wall lesbian bar that Maggie liked because the drinks were cheap and the music was soulful, and it had been going great, until about round three.  
“Who wants another drink then?” Lena asked, draining the suds from her beer glass.  
There was a chorus of feeble protests from the other women, Alex trying to shove a twenty into Lena’s trouser pockets, but they’d all acquiesced.  
“I’m buying the next round, Luthor.” Cathy, one of the women, said. She was a short, slightly tomboy-ish cop who knew Maggie from their training days and who Alex had taken a quiet dislike to for her habit of confusing being rude and being honest.  
“We’ll see.” Lena said with a twinkle in her eye. Turning to her lover, she said gently, “Are you hungry baby? You want me to bring you back some snacks?”  
Kara smiled up at the butch woman gratefully and nodded. Lena stroked a calloused thumb over the femme’s cheek before heading to the bar, laden down with empty glasses.  
“You did well there, Danvers.” Cathy chuckled, shaking her head.  
“I’ll say. Lena Luthor, lowering herself to futch.” Cathy’s partner Molly, a sporty type with a permanent pony tail and laughter lines round her blue eyes quipped. Maggie rolled her eyes and shushed her.  
“What’s a futch?” Kara asked, brow furrowing.  
“It isn’t anything, drink your beer.” Alex said, a hint of protectiveness entering her voice.  
“A feminine butch, Kara. Like you.” Cathy explained, leaning conspiratorially over the sticky table.  
Kara looked at the older woman, blinking, and then down at her olive green chinos and chocolate brown button up shirt.  
“I’m not butch at all, though?” She asked, with a hesitant question lingering in her voice.  
Her new friends laughed at that. Alex and Maggie looked sympathetic.  
Kara frowned, harder.  
“Well I don’t think I am. I’m like...super femme.”  
Maggie pointed her now empty beer bottle at her soon-to-be sister-in-law.  
“You can be whatever label you want to be, little Danvers.” There was a round of eye rolling at the table. “Even if you are futch.”  
Cathy slapped the table, guffawing.  
“We’re only teasing, Kara.” Molly said, using her shoulder to nudge the blonde now looking bewildered on her right. “It isn’t like it used to be. Butch women aren’t so fussy nowadays.”  
Kara looked up at that.  
“Fussy?”  
Cathy snorted.  
“Used to be a dyke wouldn’t look twice at a woman without 6 inch heels and a perm, not unless it was for a fight.”  
Alex blew out a raspberry. “Oh, here we go, our resident expert on butch culture.”  
Cathy held her palms out.  
“Look, I dated that bulldagger for like 3 months, I know what I know. The dykes just love their high femme women, ok? And the lipsticks like them right back. It’s like...evolution or something.”  
Maggie dropped her head in her hand dramatically.  
“For fucks sake Cathy, she dumped you because you were screwing Molly, not because you’re not girly enough.”  
Cathy jabbed a finger in the air affably. “I knows what I knows. And I’ll tell you this, it was a good job we did break up because those dykes are a handful.”  
Molly mm-hmmm’d that comment, and out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Maggie giving a noncommittal shoulder shrug.  
“Listen to me, Kara,” Cathy said, waggling her eyebrows. “You keep an eye on that woman of yours, ok, because butches these days? They all think they’re players.”  
“Oh come on!” Maggie laughed. “You mean all lesbians these days.”  
Alex tutted and slapped her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Not me, babe.”  
“I’m serious!” Cathy said, not looking very serious at all. “They like their women under the thumb, and they like a lot of ‘em.”  
“I don’t think that’s true. Lena’s not like that.” Kara said, gingerly.  
Alex opened her mouth to speak, to reassure her adopted sister, but Cathy cut her off.  
“Aha!” She all but shouted, pointing to the bar. “Proof!”  
The table, as one, turned.  
At the bar, Lena had just called the second part of her order to the waitress, standing on tip toes in her shiny brown brogues to get close enough to be heard. Kara took a moment to appreciate the way her girlfriend’s ass looked in the grey suit pants, before she realised that that wasn’t what Cathy was pointing at.  
Next to Lena, leaning casually on the bar, was a woman.  
The woman was, Kara could see, a vision. She wore a strapless, tight fitting red dress that stopped just above the knee, and high heeled ankle boots that made Kara think painfully of sprained ankles. Her skin was beautifully clear, the colour of mocha coffee, and her hair was falling in tight ringlets down to her slender shoulders. In her almond shaped brown eyes, Kara saw barely concealed hunger.  
The group watched with interest as the femme leaned in, her mouth millimetres away from the other woman’s ear, and whispered something, one slender, manicured hand coming up to stroke seductively at Lena’s bicep under the thin powder-blue material of the shirt that Kara had chosen out herself.  
Next to Alex, Maggie snickered, and the agent could see why. It was a good job Lena had chosen for once not to wear a tie or the high femme would be tugging on it.  
As they watched, Lena laughed, stepping back slightly and shaking her head.  
The older Danvers nodded approvingly, and turned back to the table. Sensing the show was over, the other women were doing the same, the conversation moving on to some other scandal involving the flirt at the bar.  
If Alex had been paying more attention, she realised in hindsight, she would have noticed that youngest Danvers’s eyes never left the scene unfolding behind them.

It was around the sixth drink, a round of shots that Cathy, slightly wobbling through the brew, had managed to manhandle back to the table, that Alex started to realise their mistake.  
“Hey Lena, looks like your lady friends back.” Maggie smirked.  
Lena looked up from where she’d been talking to Kara, their heads close together, Lena’s arm draped protectively over her girlfriend’s shoulder, and followed the detective’s gaze to the femme woman from the bar, making her way back from the toilets, bobbing up and down and twisting her hips to squeeze through the too-close tables.  
The woman smiled and winked, and Lena, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, raised the hand not toying with the kryptonian’s fingers in salute.  
“She wants a piece.” Cathy laughed, an unkind edge to her voice.  
“As I told her, I’m very happily taken. She was quite gracious about it, in fact.”  
Kara bit her thumb nervously.  
“Pfffff.” Cathy waved a hand. “I’m sure. Everyone knows your lot can’t stay in your lane.”  
Lena took a pull on her beer.  
“Wow, there must have been a rupture in the space time continuum because it seems we’ve landed back in 1953.”  
The women around the table giggled.  
Kara didn’t.  
“Come on, Luthor.” Molly asked, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want little Kara here to parade around in that high femme shit?”  
“I like Kara just the way she is. Although, darling, if you want to throw on some six inch heels and a mini skirt, I will whole heartedly support that.” Lena grinned cheekily.  
“You said you like the way I dress.” Kara said, unexpectedly quiet.  
Like flicking a switch, the table fell silent.  
Lena grimaced.  
“I was teasing, love. I do like the way you dress. I like everything about you.”  
Kara looked unconvinced, bordering on annoyed.  
“But you’d rather I looked like her, right?”  
“No, Kara, of course not. Where’s this coming from?” The brunette asked, twisting her body round to face the blonde alien currently pouting at her, to the exclusion of everyone else.  
“It isn’t true then, what they say about butch women?”  
If there was possible to have a dearth of noise worse than silence, it could be heard now, bouncing between the other women at the table.  
“Kara, I don’t think-“ Alex began, but Lena held up an open hand to stop her.  
“What do they say about us, Kara?”  
The Super appeared nervous, looking around at her friends who now refused to meet her gaze.  
“Kara?”  
Reading the room, the reporter replied, slowly, “It doesn’t matter.”  
Lena lifted her eyebrows.  
“It does matter. It matters to me what you think.”  
Kara bit her lip, shaking her head.  
“I’m just being silly. Can we...can we forget about it?”  
The butch looked unconvinced, and more than a bit suspicious, but nodded, settling back in her seat.  
“Sure thing, darling, whatever you need.”  
The rest of the night passed by uneventfully, but Alex couldn’t help noticing the terseness coming from the couple sat next to her.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun as it slopped carelessly through the crack in the curtains made Kara’s cells tingle and come alive, filling her with the energy and strength that she would need to get through the day. As everyday, waking felt how she imagined a new leaf must feel, unfurling for the first time and drinking in the light.  
This morning though, it didn’t quite make the smile appear on her mouth or the beat of her heart flutter in anticipation as usual.  
The memories of the night before trickled back almost before she had time to open her eyes, robbing her of the first moments of innocence one experiences upon waking.  
In the bed next to the Super, Lena Luthor lay naked from the waist up, one hand thrown carelessly inside her boxers, a little wheezing snore coming from her open mouth.  
Kara frowned.  
They’d been an item now for a little over a month, and had been sleeping together almost nightly since that first time 2 weeks ago. The familiarity with which they’d slipped into the routine had been based in the intense friendship that went before it, but also had a lot to do with the gentle praise and sweet kindnesses that they lavished on each other almost constantly. It was like Lena could read the words her lover was thinking written loud on her face even as she thought them, and never once had it occurred to Kara that maybe the butch might not like what she saw.  
But what if Cathy was right?  
What if Lena was settling for the adopted Danvers when really Kara didn’t have what the younger woman needed?  
What if Lena was going to find someone better suited to her identity, someone more femme, more delicate, more ladylike?  
The Super had never doubted her identity before, had never questioned the gender role assigned to her when she landed on earth, and had embraced her femininity in whatever way felt comfortable with on that day. When she’d realised, later on, that she was romantically interested in women and began to step out onto the scene, she’d merrily donned the title of “femme” without much conscious thought. Without knowing all the ins and outs, it had felt right, and her earth family were always telling her to listen less to the rigidity of other people’s opinions and more to her gut.  
No one had ever told her that maybe she didn’t have the right to it, until last night. Maybe she was femme, she’d heard between the banter, but she wasn’t femme enough. Certainly not enough for the proud, masculine woman currently sleeping next to her.  
As if called, Lena stirred, stretching, and shifted onto her side, snuggling tighter to the kryptonian’s warm body.  
Kara allowed herself a moment to savour the feeling of strong arms wrapping around her waist and shoulders, pulling her tighter, before the nagging worry crept back.  
Surely, the blonde reasoned, Lena would have told her if she needed Kara to be different. Wouldn’t have even allowed it to get this far.  
A troublesome voice behind her consciousness helpfully reminded her that Lena probably wouldn’t, actually, as love starved and isolated as the heiress had been on moving to National City. Lena liked helping people, and would rather walk a mile on broken glass than purposefully hurt a friend.  
A wave of determination swept over the reporter at this realisation, seeping into the cracks left by last night’s unkind words.  
Lena wouldn’t cheat on her, not unless she really fell hard for someone. Not unless she stopped caring about Kara to such a degree that she couldn’t stand to be trapped in a sham relationship for a minute more.  
It might be happening already; the dreams happening behind those green eyes even as the brunette lay in Kara’s bed might not be of her, but of high femme women with long, painted nails and an eye for a gentlemanly butch.  
Trying not to wake the slumbering form next to her, Kara reached for her phone. Opening Google, she began to do what she had been trained to since the day she first set foot in Cat Co magazine’s imposing lobby: research.

The sounds from the kitchen were, in the end, what woke Lena up.  
Her bedroom was at the end of a corridor, across a spacious and modern living room, and still the sound of unrecognisable banging from the kitchen was painfully audible.  
Kara wasn’t in bed with her.  
Sighing, the Luthor rolled out and up, grabbing one of Kara’s baggiest t-shirts that had somehow migrated to her bedroom floor in the time they’d been dating.  
Pulling the garment over her head, and trying to claw her hair into some sort of acceptable order, she made her way to the open plan kitchen-diner, and froze.  
“Good morning, sleepyhead!”  
It took a second for Lena’s sleep addled brain to catch up with the scene in front of her, where her girlfriend had apparently every pan in her kitchen on the giant Aga stove, the smell of cooking grease and coffee hanging in the air.  
It was hard to take in the rest of the scene, though, because there in the centre of it all was Kara herself, in just her underwear, and one of the plain white T-shirts that Lena had accidentally brought a size too small in a moment of optimism.  
“Holy shit.”  
Kara frowned, puzzled.  
“What are you holy shitting at?”  
Lena blinked, holding out both hands to demonstrate the scene in front of her.  
Kara laughed, a tinkly laugh that Lena didn’t fully recognise.  
“Oh, this? I just made breakfast. You sit and eat, and I’ll clean up. Then I’m going to head back to mine, try and make myself look presentable.”  
Lena dutifully slid into a seat at the breakfast bar, letting Kara push a huge plate of fried food in front of her. Truth be told, Lena’s dire hangover made the congealing pile of meat and eggs smell a little like cyanide, but if her girlfriend had cooked breakfast for her, there was no way in hell she was going to stop eating until the plate was clean.  
“You look very presentable to me, darling.” She smiled weakly, picking up a fork. “You certainly don’t have to do the clearing away, anyway, let me do it. Especially after you did all this. You come eat.”  
Kara only smiled.  
“I borrowed your shirt, by the way.” Lena said, pointing at the oversize shirt she was wearing. “It’s actually really comfy, I’ve got no idea what this material is but I’m in love with it.”  
Kara opened her eyes wide in an expression of surprise.  
“That’s not mine. It’s much to boyish for me. You must have forgotten you’d bought it. Eat up, it’ll go cold!”  
Lena’s brow furrowed, but she dutifully started eating, making sure she railed about how good each bite was, even as her stomach curdled.

By the second week, Lena was freaking out.

She couldn’t pin point what was wrong with her girlfriend, but she knew it was escalating.  
Kara had oscillated between nervous, worried silences, and periods of increasingly extreme activity. And she was...different.  
Lena didn’t know how to describe it, but the hero seemed to be trying to simultaneously emulate a Stepford wife, and some sort of Barbarella sex symbol. It was disconcerting and, if the CEO was being honest, upsetting; she missed her girlfriend.  
Where before they would wile away whole nights talking, now Kara seemed reluctant to add to their conversations, except to encourage Lena to continue; where they’d happily bicker over food options or movie choices, now the blonde seemed inclined to take a back seat in even the smallest decisions.  
Their fledgling sex life, that they’d both seemingly been enjoying with equal gusto, had ceased altogether after Lena realised that since the night at the bar, while Kara would still happily initiate love making, she wouldn’t engage during the act, seemingly only interested in allowing things to be done to her in a way that made Lena think guiltily of Queen Victoria advising her female courtiers to “lay back and think of England”.  
And then there had been the incident one lunchtime, when the blonde had materialised in Lena’s L Corp office, and shot furiously jealous eye daggers at Janice, the head of HR who Lena was hugging goodbye before the redhead went on maternity leave. Lena had only noticed her girlfriend was there when she caught sight of her over the crowd of office staff eating cake and congratulating the heavily pregnant Janice, and Kara had left before Lena got a chance to talk to her.  
The youngest Danvers wasn’t even dressing like she usually did; her summer swing dresses and chinos had vanished, replaced with the kind of clothes that had made Alex ask outright about Red Kryptonite in the middle of Girls Night a week earlier.  
Worse still, despite blatant suffering, the reporter refused to open up about what was going on; the usually open book was resolutely closed to the butch woman, and her mind had started to throw up alarming scenarios of what might have had happened to cause the worrying changes.  
Lena knew that it had something to do with the night they went to The Fox, and she suspected it had to do with the cryptic conversation of “what they say about butch women”, but for the life of her she couldn’t work the problem out.

On the fourteenth day, Lena Luthor cracked, and went to find some answers. 

“Look, I don’t like having to go behind her back like this but I’m seriously worried about your sister.” Lena stated as soon as Alex’s door opened.  
The older Danvers was still wearing a tatty set of plaid pyjamas, and blinking her eyes sleepily, but beckoned the newcomer inside nonetheless.  
Closing the door, the agent sighed morosely, rubbing a hand through her hair.  
“Yeah, me too.”  
As the butch entered, Maggie looked up from her place on the settee, throwing the magazine she’d been reading onto the coffee table and smiling widely.  
“Luthor!”  
Lena nodded, curtly. “Hi Maggie. I’m sorry to barge in, I just really need to ask you guys something.”  
Alex nodded for her to continue, arms folding around her chiseled midriff.  
“The night we went out with Cathy and Molly...I want to know if something happened with...or to...Kara.”  
Maggie looked confused. “I don’t remember anything.”  
“I think I do.” Alex said, almost in a whisper. “Look, Lena, I want you to know it was just a few jokes, ok? It wasn’t anything personal.”  
The Luthor’s eyes narrowed. “I’m listening.”  
“We were joking about...butches...you know, the old stereotypes.” Alex said uncomfortably, pausing to suck some air through her teeth under the other woman’s scrutiny.  
“I can guess the ones. Go on.” Lena said coldly.  
“Cathy and Molly were teasing Kara for being futch...you know, like a feminine butch, and how  
butch women traditionally go for more...femme...sort of....women. And how more masculine women tend to be sort of...stereotypically...” Alex trailed off, but Lena urged her on.  
“Just say it, Alex.”  
Alex screwed her face up.  
“Promiscuous. And possessive. Of their women.”  
The silence echoed out across the flat.  
“It was just a joke, Lena.” Maggie said eventually, shrugging both shoulders apologetically. “Kara knew that, surely. Just a bit of banter.”  
“I’m sure.” The business women responded. “But I don’t think Kara took it as a joke. I think she’s been tying herself in knots over it, and second guessing every damn thing about our relationship and her own identity.”  
Alex took a step forward, still hugging herself.  
“You know that would never be our intention. Kara’s my sister and my best friend, I’d never deliberately hurt her. Or you, for that matter.”  
Lena nodded, once, sharply.  
“Maybe not, but you did. To be honest, I would have expected more from you. From both of you. You should know the weight that kind of thing carries, and how high Kara holds your opinions.”  
“It was just a joke.” Maggie repeated, sounding miserable.  
“I’ve got to go, I need to talk to Kara and try and straighten this out.” With her hand on the doorknob, the woman hesitated. “Thank you for telling me.”  
Alex and Maggie both stared at the closed door long after Lena had left.  
“Well,” The cop said after a while, “that was shit.”

Kara answered her door looking flushed, as if she’d been rushing around at super speed before answering. The green sheath dress she was wearing looked, to Lena’s eyes, wholly unsuitable for an afternoon relaxing at home.  
“Hey, Lena! Come in!”  
“Hi, angel. Are you ok?” The butch asked, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the blonde’s lips before walking to lean on the kitchen counter, not facing her lover.  
Kara frowned. “I’m ok, are you ok?”  
Taking a deep breath, Lena turned.  
“I think we need to talk.”  
Before her eyes, the alien visibly blanched.  
“It’s nothing bad! Not really. I just...things have been a bit weird lately and I want to talk about it.”  
“Lena I-“ Kara began, smiling.  
Her smile faltered at Lena’s pained expression.  
“I talked to Alex, darling.”  
“Ok?”  
“I talked to Alex about what was said the night we went out with her and Maggie, and Cathy and Molly.”  
The heroine swallowed, fidgeting with the tight hem of her dress.  
“What did she say?”  
Lena gave a small, reassuring half smile, and began speaking, picking her words carefully as if picking wool from a bear trap.  
“She said they were talking a lot of nonsense about butch women only wanting femme women, and how we can’t keep our hands to ourselves. And about where you sit in that, identity wise.”  
Lena paused for a few seconds, giving the other woman the chance to talk. When nothing was forthcoming, she said as gently as she could, “Do you want to tell me how you felt about that?”  
Kara froze, and then, suddenly, looked broken, a wobbly sigh escaping her mouth involuntarily.  
“Are you going to leave?” She said at last.  
“Oh, my darling, no, never!” Lena rushed forwards and took Supergirl into her arms. Kara allowed herself to be held, clinging to the human like a life raft. “Talk to me, beautiful. I promise it’ll help.”  
Moving back only enough that they could see each other faces, Kara began.  
“They were saying all this stuff, stuff about butch women and their identity, and what they wanted in a woman, and how they treat the women who love them, and I knew it wasn’t true but...”  
“But what, Kara?” Lena asked, placing an open palm to the super’s cheek.  
“They said I...I wasn’t femme. Or at least not femme enough, not for you. They said some not very nice stuff about how butch women like their partners to be...well, I mean I know that you’re not like that and I tried to write it off, ignore it, but then there was this woman at the bar hitting on you, and she was so ladylike, and I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe there was some truth in what they said. I thought that maybe if I made myself more femme, I could make things so good you wouldn’t ever look elsewhere. I mean...I’d never properly thought about it before, how I labelled myself - I just went with what felt right, but I’ve been researching things and I tried to follow what people were saying, about how femme’s should act and look and stuff. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be, to be honest. A lot of the advice was really contradictory.” Kara finished with an exasperated huff. “Are you mad?”  
Pulling the woman closer to her body until she could press their foreheads together, Lena Luthor sighed.  
The truth was, she was mad.  
She was mad at the Cathys and the Mollys of the world, spewing the same old junk about butches and femmes and acting like the gender police, enforcing some made up rules that had zero grounding in reality.  
She was mad at the Alexs and the Maggies of the world for laughing along even though they didn’t believe it, even though they knew better.  
She was mad that Kara had been struggling through this, alone, because of one stupid flyaway conversation that the other participants barely even remembered.  
But she wasn’t mad at the woman in front of her; a little hurt maybe that she had believed the bullshit that people said about women like Lena, but not angry.  
“Kara, listen to me, ok? I’m going to say this as many times as you need to hear it: I am not mad at you. It saddens me that you’ve had to go through this on your own rather than just talking to me, but I understand. I’m proud of who I am, I’m proud to be butch, and in my head I’m pretty stone about it,” seeing the crinkle appear between Kara’s eyebrows, Lena internally scolded herself to keep it simple, “but the labels we wear, our identities - they aren’t some kind of checklist, ok? There isn’t some kind of points system that decides if you’re butch or femme or whatever. All that matters is if it feels right in here.” Lena tapped the tip of her finger on Kara’s temple.  
“I just don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to claim something I don’t have a right to.” The blonde sniffed.  
“Babygirl, you aren’t going to lose me. I didn’t fall in love with a label, I fell in love with you. I couldn't care less how you dress as long as you’re happy, and believe me when I say I don’t want you to act like some walking stereotype - I want you to act like you. Does that make sense?”  
Kara nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around her lover.  
“And who told you you don’t have a right to be femme? What earns you the right to be anything? That’s nonsense. You are what you are, and only you know what that is. Everyone else can just mind their own business.”  
“I just know how much you like looking after me and being strong for me, and I thought maybe there was some truth in you wanting a girlfriend who was more...docile, I guess?”  
Lena baulked, stepping back and holding the calming woman at arms length so that they could make eye contact.  
“I do like looking after you, darling. I like making sure you’re eating enough, and going to the bar for you, and...and, I don’t know, carrying the heavier bags out of the supermarket, because I love you and it makes me feel good to do it. And yeah, maybe that is some part of what makes me butch. But I don’t want some doll who acts like she is subservient - I’m dating a fully grown, intellectual, wonderful woman, and I wouldn't want her to change just to please other people, especially not me.”  
They hugged then, the tension of the last few weeks dissipating slightly. Kara inhaled Lena’s scent, the old familiar smell of Blue Jeans aftershave and pomade, wishing they’d spoken about it the first morning they woke up.  
“Lena?” She asked, suddenly.  
“Yes, darling?” Came the response, muffled by the kryptonian’s collar bone.  
“You know you don’t really have to carry the heavy bags, right? I mean, I could probably carry all the bags and you and the car, if needs be.”  
Lena chuckled. “I know, and that is amazingly hot, but let me do it anyway.”  
Kara beamed. “Ok. Lena?”  
“Yes, darling?”  
“Do you realise you just told me you loved me, like, three times?”  
Shit.


	3. Chapter 3

Kara’s legs were weak and shuddering - she didn’t even know it was physically possible for that to happen with her powers in tact, but then lately she’d been discovering a lot of things about her body that she never would have guessed.  
Smiling, she bonelessly eased herself off the panting form beneath her, three of her fingers slipping out of the deliciously warm velvet of Lena’s mouth as she did so.  
“I think I’m broken.” The hero said, giggling.  
“Aw, poor baby,” Lena managed as her breathing started to return to normal, “so fragile!”  
Kara snuggled closer to her girlfriend, placing fluttery kisses to the pale skin of her shoulder and chest.  
“I hope your mother never finds out about my weakness. That would have Cadmus written all over it.”  
Lena stared at the ceiling while her brain caught up with what her ears had heard.  
The laughter that followed bordered on the hysterical, her slender hands coming up to cover her face.  
Kara chuckled too, more at the woman in front of her than the joke.  
“Your weaknesses are kryptonite, and post sex glow.” Lena grinned when she’d calmed down.  
“And butch women.” Kara said, a slight blush starting on her cheeks.  
The brunette raised a pointed eyebrow. “I knew it was the suits you fell for, darling.”  
Kara sighed happily.  
Following their heart-to-heart, things hadn’t gotten better over night.  
Of course they hadn’t, she thought; that kind of thing only happened in TV shows and movies.  
In real life, feelings and insecurities took longer to dissipate, scratching and clawing and leaving new marks on their way out.  
Even now, weeks later, Kara still caught herself doubting her image in the mirror when they were going out, panicking over whether an outfit was too manly or whether Lena could stand to be with a woman who wore such-and-such item of clothing; she still found herself jealously watching her girlfriend interact with a particularly feminine waitress or co-worker, the image playing on her mind long afterwards.  
Lena had been, as always, very patient, even on the rare occasion that frustration caused her to snap at one of the more outlandish accusations. They would, the butch assured her lover, get through it together, as long as they were honest and kept talking.  
She was right, of course.  
The talking did help, and Kara was re-learning to take her identity at face value. In a stroke of optimism, she’d even brought a small tin badge that she had pinned to her favourite denim jacket; it read “Fierce Femme” in the colours of the lesbian flag, and Lena had bodily picked the blonde up from the floor in a bone-creaking hug when she’d seen it.  
Yes, Kara reassured herself, things were definitely getting better, and never better in her opinion than times like that moment, when Lena was looking at her like she was the sun and the moon in one.  
Kara bit gently at the very top of the other woman’s naked breast.  
“Take this off,” she demanded, her voice firm as she tugged at the soft faux-leather straps tethering the strap-on to her bedmate’s hips. “I want to taste you.”  
Lena groaned happily, rushing to fumble at the buckles.  
“You’re trying to kill me, Kara Zor-El, that’s what you’re trying to do.” The business woman growled, not sounding very sad about that at all.

Alex’s birthday came round quicker than ever that year, celebrated with cake and (for everyone but Kara) whiskey, Lena having brought an inordinately expensive bottle to the small bedsit that had been decked out lovingly by Maggie in tacky ‘Birthday Girl’ banners.  
“Agent Danvers, even at your age I’m not going to let you drink swill on your birthday.” Lena sassed, crammed on the arm of the couch next to her lover.  
Alex snorted.  
“Careful, Luthor - even at my age I can still dead leg you quicker than you can say ‘Truce’.”  
“I’ll protect you, Lena.” Maggie said gallantly. “She might be the birthday girl but she wouldn’t dare dead leg me, not unless she really likes sleeping on the balcony.”  
Alex frowned. “Babe, we haven’t got a balcony.”  
Maggie nodded. “Exactly.”  
Kara joined in the hearty laughter that followed.  
The Incident, as they’d taken to referring to it, had turned out to be little more than a speed bump in the kryptonian’s relationship with her sister, and the Luthor seemed even less inclined to hold grudges against two of the most important people in her beloved’s life.  
“We talked about it, I said my piece, and that’s that.” Was all Lena would say on the subject.  
Since then, though, the relationship between the youngest Luthor and the Danvers-Sawyer women seemed to have become a silent alliance, of sorts, built not only a mutual love of the adopted Danvers, but also on hard won respect.  
With Kara herself, both Alex and Maggie had thrown themselves on their swords at the first opportunity; declarations of undying fealty and forgiveness had been sworn, and hugs exchanged, before things returned as far as possible to normal almost as quickly as they had derailed.  
It was nice, and comforting, and, importantly for Kara, wonderfully reassuring.  
“Are you guys still coming to the Fox this weekend?” Maggie asked, levering a piece of pizza from the box.  
Lena glanced at Kara.  
The blonde woman had frozen, hands clasping the coffee table, eyes focusing on the open bottle of whiskey in front of her.  
“We’ll let you know.” The CEO said, not unkindly.

Later, when they were safely tucked away in Kara’s flat, and the femme was sat at her dressing table carefully removing her makeup with circular cotton pads dipped in remover, Lena took her chance.  
“So, Saturday night.” She said, noncommittally.  
There was a pause before Kara removed her hand from where it was easing off the mascara framing her right eye, and wrinkled her nose at her girlfriend’s reflection.  
“I don’t want to go.”  
Lena shrugged from where she sat cross legged on the bed in nothing more than her boxers and a loose fitting tank top.  
“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there, darling.”  
The reporter sighed, turning round on the seat to look the butch in the eye.  
“But...it’s Alex’s birthday, and if we don’t go I know I’ll feel terrible, and Alex will feel even worse because she’ll think it’s her fault.”  
The brunette ruffled her hair, the pomade making it stick up in a little faux-hawk, trying to work a compromise in her head.  
“Well, how about we go for an hour? If it’s really awful and really too much after that, we’ll say I’m ill and come home, just you and me. How does that sound?”  
Kara shrugged, fingers pulling the plies of the damp cotton apart.  
Lena shuffled to the end of the bed, eyes raking her love’s face.  
“I’ll wear the blue suit.” She wheedled.  
Kara smirked. “It’s a County and Western night.”  
Lena laughed. “Even cowboys need to dress up sometimes.”  
The blonde chuckled, easing herself from the stool and into her girlfriend’s welcoming embrace. Lena nuzzled her nose into the hinge of Kara’s jaw, wrapping her arms tightly round the alien’s strong frame.  
“Lena?”  
“Yes, darling?”  
“Can you wear the white tie too.”  
“The kipper one?”  
Kara nodded.  
“Of course, my angel. Anything for you.”

The week rolled by quickly, and the trip to the Fox wasn’t mentioned again, but Kara knew it was coming.  
She’d spent the better part of the week worrying: worrying about seeing Cathy and Molly again, about going out on the scene with her new found doubts, about what to wear and how to style her hair and how much makeup was too much makeup.  
By the time 7pm arrived on the fated night, she’d gotten herself worked up to the point that Alex had all but force-fed her a shot of Alderean rum to calm her nerves. It hadn’t worked.  
“Lena’s late.” Kara said, appraising her reflection in the full length mirror next to the door for the 15th time.  
Maggie rolled her eyes. “By like three minutes. Stop worrying.”  
“Alex, do these shoes match with this dress?” The blonde continued, passive aggressively ignoring the Latina.  
“Yes, Kara. You look lovely.” The agent said, pushing her thumbs into the tight pockets of her own skinny jeans, trying to remain sympathetic in the face of her sister’s harassed expression.  
Kara frowned at the glass.  
She’d gone with a brown and cream paisley pattern dress in the end, that hung just above her knees, and tied together with a thick strap around the waist, and twinned it with ankle high cowboy boots. It was an old outfit, but one she felt comfortable in - something she knew she’d need if she was going to get through the night.  
At the knock on the door, the reporter jumped dramatically.  
“Are you going to answer it?” Alex asked after 30 seconds of inactivity.  
Kara absently bobbed her head, loose blonde ringlets shaking, and reached for the handle.  
If it was possible to find a confidence boost in physical form, the look on Lena’s face when she saw her lover was it.  
“You look incredible.” The butch whispered, not acknowledging the other women’s presence in favour of openly gawping at the sight in front of her.  
The blonde smiled, slapping the bicep hidden under the navy blue fabric of the 3 piece suit that the heiress had worn.  
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”  
The sound of Alex clearing her throat broke the spell.  
“Right, love birds, Uber’s downstairs. Let’s go before we can’t get you out.”  
Giggling, the foursome made their way down to the darkening street.

The bar was packed.  
The tables and chairs had been moved out to create more space, but the windowless room was jam packed with women, all except for a small square next to the make shift DJ booth that would serve as the dance floor.  
“I’ll get us some drinks - Luthor, you on the beer or the whiskey?” Maggie shouted over the excited din.  
“Beer!” Lena yelled back, putting a thumb up in thanks.  
Kara glanced around anxiously, noticing more than a few eyes wandering in their direction.  
“They’re staring because you look beautiful, love.”  
Kara jolted at the unexpected whisper, tickling the curve of her ear, but relaxed when she turned to see her girlfriend smiling adoringly at her, one hand coming to rest in the small of the kryptonian’s back.  
“Promise?”  
Lena let out a mellow sigh.  
“God, Kara, yes. You are always beautiful, but tonight...wow.”  
The femme smiled, leaning down to rest her forehead on the shorter woman’s shoulder to hide her blush.  
When she leaned back, a little circle of powder could be seen on the fabric.  
Lena laughed.  
“I like it when you mark your territory.”  
“Luthor! Danvers!”  
The couple turned to see two familiar, unwelcome faces.  
“Cathy. Molly.” Lena said icily.  
“Well, don’t you just look the perfect husband and wife.” Cathy said, laughing warmly.  
“Maybe one day.” The CEO countered with hardly a missed beat.  
Molly chuckled. “That’s the spirit. You don’t look very Country though - at least little Kara here made an effort to stay on theme.”  
Cathy nodded, eyes travelling over the femme’s figure appreciatively. “Yep, very...Slutty House on the Prairie.”  
Kara frowned, taking the words in and mulling them over as if they were new, foreign, to her.  
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about Kara like that, thank you. It’s not appropriate and it makes you sound like an ass.” Kara heard Lena state, but she wasn’t really listening.  
Deep down inside, something went ‘twang’.  
“You know what? I get it. I get why you were so quick to run me and my relationship down. I get why you said those horrible things about Lena. It’s because you’re insecure, jealous, miserable women. You’re unhappy with your own lives so you want to ruin everyone else’s moments of joy, like a mean kid kicking over a sandcastle. Oh boy, you must have thought it was so easy with me, planting all those little barbs and watching them sink in. Well, you should be ashamed, utterly ashamed. Both of you.”  
Jabbing her finger in the air to emphasise the last point, Kara became very aware of the shocked silence radiating out from their group as around them, women sensed something important happening and craned to get a piece of the action.  
Cathy and Molly looked shocked, Cathy’s face fluttering between horror, embarrassment and rage.  
A little behind them, hands full of forgotten beer glasses and pitchers, Alex and Maggie were grinning supportively; the taller woman was trying to give the thumbs up, beer slopping ungracefully from the four-pinter in her hand.  
Next to her however, Lena was a picture.  
The only word to describe the expression plastered all over her face was ‘Pride’.  
“Now,” Kara said, smoothing down her dress nonchalantly, “if you’ll excuse us, this is mine and Lena’s song.”  
With that, the femme grabbed her lover’s hand and dragged her, stumbling and wide eyed, to the empty dance floor.  
Over their heads, a passionate female voice began to croon.  


_Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman_

Lena finally snapped out of her trance.  
“ _This_ is our song?”  
Kara smiled sheepishly, resting her right hand lovingly over her partner’s heart as they swayed.  
“I like this song.”  
Lena beamed, her hand coming up to clasp the small, manicured one currently twiddling with her lapel.  
“I like the fact that you like this song. And I like the fact it reminds you of me.”  
The older woman chortled, giving a playful tap with her free hand.  
“I never said it reminds me of you!”  


_Stand by your man,_  
_give him two arms to cling to,_  
_and something warm to come to,_  
_when nights are cold and lonely_  


Lena breathed a happy huff, the hand holding her lover flush to her own human body easing surreptitiously round to palm the dimpled muscle of Supergirl’s lower back.  
“It does though, doesn’t it?”  
Kara hummed, aware of a hundred pairs of eyes watching them slowly bobbing round the dance floor, even as other couples began to join in, buoyed by their display.  
“Maybe. Only because I love you, though.”


End file.
